Cabbie
by Bran Nue Dae
Summary: Emma Swan wanted to do nothing but sleep the days away in her bug while her boyfriend Neal was out on yet another one of his jobs. But when an aspiring young politician mistakes her yellow canary Volkswagen for a cab, Emma has no choice but to drive. AU. Sort of SQ.


New York, the labyrinth city of impenetrable concrete and glass. The pinnacle of dreams and opportunities for many but for eighteen-year-old, Emma Swan, she couldn't shake the sense of discomfort that racked her bones whenever she found herself on this part of the east coast. It wasn't even her choice to come back here. Neal was offered some _job_ or other that, according to his contacts, promised big (easy) money.

Never one to bail on such prospect, Neal managed to convince Emma that perhaps it was time to return to the Big Apple.

That was two weeks ago and upon arrival, her boyfriend had insisted that the blonde stay with their car, roaming the city (and staying out of trouble, he said twice) while he did the deed. 'Just in case', he coaxed. She grumbled (far too much like a teenager for her liking) at being treated like deadweight but stayed behind with relative complaint. The next few days passed by slowly with Emma sleeping in her car, washing up in gyms (after closing time), and often disguised herself as a waitress to steal food.

All in all, she managed to keep herself occupied. Today though, in a state of impressive boredom, she had somehow driven herself into the nicer part of the city where the streets were filled with women who looked as if they'd taken a literal step out of this month's Vogue magazine. A quick glance through her thin-rimmed spectacles told her that any single item of their clothing could have easily paid for the nourishment of a small African village's for months. Even the men looked like slight variations of Gordon Gekko as they raided the streets in their crisply ironed suits and polished brief cases.

Her rising irritation with them, her boyfriend and herself grew, until she was frowning to such extent that her dark frames began sliding off the bridge of her nose. After six minutes of attempting to scrunch them back up to where they belonged, she finally pushed them back with her fingers. Shaking her head, she sighed and straightened herself against the worn, brown leather seat, eager to drive off and take a nap somewhere.

But then a burst of the city noise infiltrated the quiet haven of her beat down Volkswagen. Followed by a very irritated voice.

"Yes, Senator, I'm well aware of your wife's preferences in-" Emma's head snapped back to see a stack of files that were carelessly holding in a collection of crunched papers being tossed in her car before an oversized dress bag with classic font style embedded in gold tints along the chest width was delicately placed along the seats. Finally, came the intruder, a young woman dressed in a dour shade of red, olive and grey glowering into her phone.

"Yes, I also have her evening gown and shoes picked up," Emma's lips parted ready to throw a couple of choice words at her until she continued, "yes, sir, I'll have them delivered within half an hour. Yes sir, thank you sir."

The phone was barely pulled away from her face when the woman began dialling another number into her cell. "Drive me without question to where I want and you'll get a hundred dollars by the end of it," she quickly offered, her gaze intent on the bright, small screen in her lap instead.

The argument died behind Emma's lips. "Say what now?"

The dark woman scowled, her eyes slightly hidden behind her chaotic raven hair, while red, plump lips snarled against pearly white teeth. For someone who just barged into a car not her own, she looked way too pretentious, "I don't have time for this, can you do it or not?"

_Great, another holier-than-thou New Yorker,_ Emma thought as she took in the trespasser. She didn't even have to really _look_ at her to know she came from the higher ranks of the socio-economic hierarchy. The woman _reeked _of wealth, her clothes bragging of high fashion while her heels clacked impatiently against the steel floor in the little room it had what with all her crap flown everywhere.

But an easy hundred bucks was far too much to pass up on. Plus, she was wicked hungry. What harm could driving around a pompous ass do?

Gripping onto her steering wheel, she made another one of her infamous impulsive decisions. The car started easily enough as she spoke, "where to miss?"

The first address was more or less, barked at her and Emma found herself driving into Manhattan, her canary yellow bug standing out far too much amongst the limos, BMWs and Fords and every other eats-up-oil-like-a-Kraken vehicle you could think of. Emma frowned to herself, already hating her predicament when she heard bits and pieces of, what she assumed, was a sensible conversation to her passenger at least.

"No, get the Manolos ready _now_," her voice growled against the sounds of flipping papers and angry scribbling, "the pair I just ordered this morning you idiot, what else would I be talking about?"

_Geez, someone's got a stick up their ass_.

"The _hell_ do you mean, they aren't there yet?" She hissed and Emma couldn't stop the sudden image of Medusa invading her head. She snickered lightly to herself, her eyes darting to the rear view mirror as she did. The menacing dark eyes glaring back let her know she was caught. Feigning ignorance, she gazed forward to the oncoming traffic and kept her face neutral. An aggravated huff came from the back, followed by more papers being shuffled.

"You _get _them there, or it's Senator McKegan's wife who'll be hounding you and not me and believe me, you really don't want that."

_Ah great_, Emma grimaced, _an aspiring politician. Just what the world needed. _She had half a mind to toss the woman back onto the streets on good sense alone. Still, she tightened her hold on the wheel and thought maybe this one wasn't so bad.

Another threat came from the backseat and Emma discreetly shook her head.

_Never mind, she's just as bad_.

They finally pulled to a stop in front of a store where a small man, dressed from head to toe in an elegant suit waited with a bag in hand. Even from afar Emma could see the slight veil of sweat on his gleaming forehead.

"Stay here," she was ordered before the door clicked shut.

It was only then did Emma get a good look at her forced-on-her-like-Ebola passenger. She was surprised to see that she was a fairly small woman, olive-skinned, svelte with her height accentuated by the five-inch heels she seemed to glide in. Her dark, luscious hair was cut short, styled with a sort of liveliness you'd only expect to see in magazines. She had perfect posture, her head held high with her chin pronounced proudly forward, in a manner so natural it seemed almost forced. She held out her hand, her fingers soft and feminine, with long graceful fingers of a concert pianist. She did not seem particularly intimidating but Emma caught sight of how intently she was watching the older man and his attempts at grace and propriety with what seemed like amusement.

Yeah, Emma really didn't like her.

The man bowed graciously as if he'd just been pardoned from an impending execution and the woman waved him off like a monarch dismissing her subject. Slowly, she turned with a strange regal grace and headed back to the bug.

"Was that necessary?" Emma asked before she could stop herself when the woman slid in.

"Excuse me?" She spoke melodiously with a twinge of surprise, as if confounded by the fact that her driver was capable of speech.

_Because God forbid, the help have opinions_.

"The poor guy looked frightened to death of you," Emma continued, "it wasn't necessary to terrorize him any further. You got what you wanted." Emma haphazardly pulled her car out of the parking spot and ignored an angry yell being hurled at her direction.

There was a short silence and Emma half wondered if the woman short-circuited behind her. She was about to dare another glance when she heard, "I paid you to drive, not to talk."

The blonde scoffed, mentally scolding herself for expecting anything _human_ from a woman like her. "Whatever you want, _your highness_," she said brusquely.

Another address was snapped at her and Emma changed lanes to take the next street, deciding she'd make this drive as easy as possible by keeping her thoughts to herself and mouth shut the rest of the way.

Emma let out a low huff, already foreseeing her epic failure at that.


End file.
